


The Cornerstone

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: Brian's 18th birthday present to Bender is the rest of their lives.





	The Cornerstone

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from inell gone amok: 'Brian/Bender, 18'.

On Bender’s 18th birthday, Brian took the fake ID that he nervously bought from Arms (hung out in the parking lot of the Denny’s and even made Bender say ‘yeah, he's scary’) and drove two towns over to the liquor place that was known for miles around as deliberately vague about checking ids in the first place. Brian (who shockingly was actually six whole months older than Bender, and was just starting to look it) almost dropped the thing as he handed it to the disinterested clerk. He scuttled to his car with his ill-gotten gains, but no one swooped out of the bushes to bust him. So he drove back to Shermer.

Then he parked a few blocks away and walked to the Bender household clutching the sweating brown paper bag like his life depended on it. He didn’t bother with the front door or even the back one. Instead he leaned down and knocked against the basement window. Bender answered quick enough, folding down the window to glare up at him.

“What?” he barked.

“Got you a birthday present.” Brian said.

Bender’s dark gaze drifted to the bag, his face softened a little, “Aw, all that trouble for me?”

“That’s not the present,” Brian stuttered out. “That’s-that’s sort of goes with the present. Can you come out?”

“Fuck, yeah, just give me a minute.”

Brian waited, sitting on the ground, leaning against the house, Maybe all of this was a horrible idea. Maybe Bender would hate it or they wouldn’t be able to hack it. Eighteen was nothing. Eighteen was the beginning of everything and the start of nothing. Bender (with less hassle that you might think) had been convinced to apprentice with a mechanic and he was damn good at it. Brian liked meeting up with him after work, Bender still working oil out from under his nails and Brian filled with new ideas from summer course work at the community college.

"Where are we going?” Bender, in deference to the heat that had beat down for a solid week, had shed most of his layers. He was down to a black tank-top and Brian had to do a little deep breathing.

“Back to my car. Figured you wouldn’t want it lingering outside.”

“Ling-er-ing,” Bender rolled over his tongue, eyes shining. Sometimes Brian thought maybe he was still making fun of him, but more and more, it seemed like Bender was getting a literal taste for language. He liked dragging out words, repeating them into Brian's ear when he least expected. “Nah, wouldn’t want any lingering there, Bri.”

They walked in silence. Brian loved Bender’s silences. He'd thought they were full of menace and dark corners. But it turned out Bender was quiet as a kindness. His tongue held to enjoy the mellowness between them. They couldn’t hurt each other at all in the still cool depths of their shared hush.

“Get in,” Brian opened the passenger door. Bender gave him a look. “Please?”

“Whatever,” Bender contended, but folded himself down. The car was an old compact, not really a great fit for two tall men, but Brian had compromised for good reason.

This reason. Shit. This better work.

Brian put the car into drive.

“Are we there yet?” Bender asked deadpan. Brian’s lips twitched. “What about now? What about now? Huh, Brian? Are we there yet?”

“You’re such a child.”

“Wrong! I’m an adult in the eyes of the law, motherfucker. Are we there yet?”

“Technically, I’m a benderfucker,” Brian glanced at him, watched the joke land with a thud and then the slow narrowing of eyes and a snort.

“You’re so much less fun since you got used to me,” Bender decided. “Are we there yet?”

“It’s a half hour drive,” he said exasperated. “You can choose the music.”

“That’s a trick. Your radio barely works.”

“Glove compartment,” he shrugged.

Bender dove and came up with a handful of tapes, “Stones...Black Sabbath...Aerosmith..Led Zepplin...you listening to this shit now?”

“No,” Brian cranked down his widow, letting the wind whip through his hair as he got on the highway. “I don’t really listen to anything when I drive alone. S’why I don’t care about the radio.”

Bender frowned down at the still sealed tapes. Their price labels had been carefully peeled away leaving tacky squares behind.

“And this is-”

“No,” Brian glanced at him, warmed as Bender started carefully picking at the wrappers. “Just figured you could finally get me to listen to all of it.”

Bender put the first tape in, turning it up too loud. It wasn’t bad. Brian tapped his fingers against the wheel as Bender dropped his seat back so he could sprawl, a line of black cloth and tanned skin, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, but the soft curve of his lips betraying him anyway.

He pulled off the exit and made a single turn. The complex wasn’t great looking, but not bad either. The buildings were in good repair, even if the paint peeled a little. There were strollers and bikes parked here and there. Cars like Brian’s old, but serviceable one in most of the spots.

“Is my birthday present that you finally murder me and hide my body in someone’s backyard?” Bender flipped off the music as Brian pulled into a parking space. “Fucking great. I knew you were going to turn into a serial killer eventually.”

“Serial killers don’t take out the people closest to them,” Brian shrugged. “They choose vulnerable victims that won’t be traced back to them.”

“Oh, so we’re here to pick out your first victim. You’re getting my hands dirty, mutually assured destruction?”

“Yes, definitely. I definitely risked talking to Arms to get a fake ID to buy you beer, drive my own actual car with it’s actual license plates to kill someone,” Brian fished the paper bag out of the back seat, “You guessed my evil plan, Mr. Bond. Get out of the car.”

“You’re bossy today,” Bender grinned lazily at him. “It’s my birthday, I should get to choose who we murder.”

“There’s no murder,” he hissed at him. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why?” Bender followed close behind him as Brian walked down a sidewalk between two of the buildings. “Is this a bust? Are there cops?”

“No, I just don’t want to get a reputation as the guys who yell at each other about murdering people.”

“Brian, we are the guys that yell each other about murdering people,” Bender said solemnly. “Live your truth, man.”

“Shut up,” he groaned and fished a key out of his pocket.

Bender shut up, but probably because Brian used the key to open a door in the left hand building and started going up the stairs. Slowly, a frown creasing his face, Bender followed him up. Another key opened the only door on the floor, swinging it open into an empty apartment.

Well. Not totally empty. Brian had carefully cleaned it for one, so it smelled good and there was a box fan in one window, already on and blowing slightly cooler air into the dining/living room area. He’d also laid out his old sleeping bag as a kind of picnic blanket. He set down the beers next to it.

“Brian,” Bender’s voice echoed in the empty space. “What the fuck is this?”

“Um, a two bedroom with electric and gas included in the rent?” he stayed standing up, not wanting to give Bender the higher ground.

“Yeah, so why are we here?”

Brian bit his lip, “Um. It’s ours. Or it can be just mine. If you don’t- um. Yeah.”

“Ours,” Bender repeated limply.

“I thought- I just. Northwestern is only a half hour from here.”

“Fuck Northwestern, you’re going to MIT,” Bender spit out.

“I told you I’m not,” Brian lifted his chin defiantly. “A full ride is a full ride. My internship already offered me part-time hours for the year. It’s not for...it’s for me. So I don’t have to depend on my parents at all. I’m free. And I thought maybe...”

“Maybe what?" the question was a demand, but maybe also, a little bit of a plea.

“Maybe you could be free too. With me. Or just in the room next to me. If you want,” he swallowed hard. “The rent is cheap. There’s a bus station on the corner that could get you to work until you finish fixing up the motorcycle.”

“You want me to live here. With you.”

“Yeah,” Brian breathed out. “I really really do.”

“Why?” Bender stared at him.

“Because...because,” he could do this. He’d practiced and prepared himself for emotional devastation. He even had beer he could drink alone if he needed to cry later. “Because I love you. A lot. Um. And you can run away now. I just sort of hoped you’d run with me? Happy birthday?”

“Happy...” Bender shook his head, “Fuck....Brian. You...”

Brian waited, but Bender didn’t say anything else. He just stared at him like Brian had announced he was going to fly on a pig’s back to the moon. It wasn’t one of their good clean silences. It felt heavy and wrong.

“You listen to me,” Brian blurted when he couldn’t take it anymore. “You didn’t used to, I guess. But since we started...you know. You listen. And you shake me up and make me think about things I didn’t think about before. You’re an asshole, except when it matters and I like mattering. To you. I think I do anyway. So. I love you and I’m sorry if that’s weird or bad or wrong. Maybe you think we were just...friends who see each other naked-”

“You’re not my friend,” Bender broke in.

“Oh,” Brian felt like he’d been punched. “Okay...”

“You’re my...whatever...my,” his nose wrinkled up in distaste, “you’re more than my friend. You’re just...you’re it. You’re just...mine. Okay?”

“Oh,” he felt dizzy with relief and the sharp spike of joy. “I can...I can be that.”

Bender rocked back on his heels, “So you just put a down payment on this place, in case I said yes?”

“I can afford it on my own, if I’m careful,” he frowned.

“And you’re always careful,” Bender scoffed.

“I am! Just...maybe not with you.”

“You’re careful with me too,” then there was the familiar gravity of Bender’s arms around him, strong and sure. The kiss that was always softer than Brian anticipated, he hand creeping into his hair to hold him steady. “Show me our goddamn apartment, I guess.”

Brian held him tight for just a second, breathing him in. He sort of smelled actually, it was hot and the fan probably wasn’t strong enough. Then he let go with a grin,

“Here’s the living room,” he opened his arms wide. He pointed to the kitchenette, “There’s the mac and cheese room.”

“Hey, I can make a baked potato, college boy,” Bender laughed. “And?”

Brian walked backward to the short hallway, opening the door to the avocado colored bathroom.

“Hot and cold running water.”

Bender golf clapped.

He opened the other two doors, “Matching bedrooms.” They were both plain white boxes with radiators and worn carpets.

“Matching bedrooms,” Bender repeated, stepping into the one that didn’t face the other building. Brian had opened the windows in here too, but without a fan, it was still hot.

“Even if...even if you want to share the bed,” he started. “I figured a second-you know. For whatever. For if you wanted to have someone over. And didn't want...you know. Them to know.”

“What if you wanted to have someone over?” Bender was looking out the window, back to him. Sweat beaded down his neck, disappearing into the back of his tank top.

“I...was just going to tell the truth?” he stared down at his shoes. Practical brand-less white things that he’d tried to keep clean all year, but were inevitably scuffed and worn now. “Not to just anyone, but if it’s someone I trusted enough to have over anyway.”

“Goddammit,” Bender exhaled gustily. “You’re so-ugh. How are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“You trust things. Me. Friends. That things won’t somehow fucking explode.”

Brian snorted, “I worry about that stuff all the time. I make myself sick worrying sometimes. I just...get the fuck over it and do the next thing. You taught me that.”

“I fucking didn’t,” Bender turned at last, sitting where his hands had been, or at least sort of leaning there. “I don’t know what to do with this. With you.”

“You could just say yes,” Brian gave him a wavering smile. “That’d be nice. You’re not supposed to be an asshole about presents. It’s the rules.”

“I gotta pay half the rent, what kind of present does someone have to pay half for?”

“Well, there’s also the beer.”

Bender looked up at him from under dark eyelashes, “You really went to Arms for an ID?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Don’t worry, almost peeing my pants once is enough.”

“For real, he might actually be a serial killer.”

“Noted,” Brian tried to find the magical thing to say to make the tension bleed out. He offered a tiny smile, “Want a blow job?”

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

It wasn’t very organic because it was way too hot to do anything in the bedroom. So they sort of stripped down awkwardly, then found a way to lay down on the sleeping bag that wasn’t awful, but after that it was good. Brian wasn’t an expert, but he figured he was working on intermediate and Bender never complained. Afterwards, Bender jerked him off until he saw stars then pressed one of the still slightly cold beers to the back of his neck, so he shivered and cooled down quickly.

With a pop, Bender opened two other cans and they sipped them under the fan’s lazy breeze. Brian was sticking to the sleeping bag. It was exhilarating to not have to get dressed right away, rushing through it to escape notice. They could just lay there, slick as seals and growing tipsy as the sun slipped away.

“We could shower,” Brian realized. "It's our shower and no one else would walk in on us."

They set the water lukewarm and figured out a position to keep them both mostly under the spray. The color of the tile was less horrible in the twilight, fading it to a mellow green. When they got out they just had to drip dry across the floor.

“Some boy scout you are,” Bender poked him in the side.

“I was a mathlete, not a scout,” Brian stuck out his tongue at him.

“A fucking mathlete,” he whistled. “Look at me now, ma. Gonna settle down with a mathlete.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuck it. If it goes ass up, we can just hate each other until the lease ends.”

They managed to have sex again on the sleeping bag and Brian even got a little sleep, head pillowed on Bender’s arm. When it grew too uncomfortable and they were both awake, they shared a cigarette.

“There’s a convenience store a block away,” Brian didn’t cough anymore when he smoked, but it still caught in the back of his throat. “I’ll buy you a birthday breakfast.”

“It’s not my birthday anymore, genius.”

“Missed birthday dinner.”

“Oh yeah, real failed romantic there, Brian. No candles or rose petals? Get out of my apartment.”

“They probably have those cupcakes where the frosting lifts off in one sheet. We can set the frosting on fire and you can blow it out.”

“I’m telling your mathlete friends about your arson streak.”

“You think my arson streak is hot,” Brian tested.

The lighter flickered briefly to life in Bender’s hand and then slipped into Brian's pocket instead of his own, "If you're not going to murder anyone, at least you might set them on fire. Let’s go already.”

They got the cupcakes, two enormous coffees (just cream for Brian, just sugar for Bender) and a box of poptarts. They almost left before Brian remembered something and ducked back into the store coming out with a bag.

“What’s that?”

“Milk, cheese and bread,” he held up the plastic to show the half gallon. “Groceries.”

“We’re gonna live off milk and bread?”

“It’s a start.”

It turned out that Bender could make a sort of grilled cheese in the microwave. Between that, the poptarts and the slightly scorched cupcakes they had a regular feast for breakfast.

“I gotta move my stuff,” Bender decreed once they’d polished it off. “Today’s my only day off this week.”

“I haven’t exactly told my parents I’m moving out,” Brian bit his lip again. “I figured I’d do it then call them.”

“Shit plan, but probably better than anything else,” stretched out on the sleeping bag, Bender gazed up at him. “Figured I’ll just go, let ‘em figure it out.”

“Shit plan,” Brian smiled, rested his hand on top of Bender’s, “Let’s do it.”

Dropping Bender off was hard. Brian wanted to stay there while he packed. Keep watch. But Bender wouldn’t allow it and what was Brian going to do anyway? Still, he drove away reluctantly.

His own parents were at work and volunteering respectively. His sister was home, but locked up in her room with music blaring as she had been for the last few months. It drove his parents to distraction and Brian had quietly approved. Maybe taken her advice on some of the cassettes.

It was easy to pack. He’d stowed away boxes weeks ago. One for clothes, one for books that he couldn’t leave behind, one for his electronics, and one for hygiene stuff and a handful of pictures. As an afterthought, he threw in his towel, pillow and blanket.

He knocked on his sister’s door.

“WHAT?!”

“I’M GOING!”

“OKAY!’

He hesitated, scribbled a quick note and slipped it under her door. A phone number and a short explanation. He carried the boxes to his car. He left the only home he’d ever known in under a half an hour. The car could practically drive to Bender’s house on it’s own, he’d done it so frequently in the dark these last few months.

To his great relief, Bender was waiting outside, an unlit cigarette at one corner of his mouth and a mound of garbage bags at his feet.

“Inflatable mattress in one of them,” as soon as the car rolled to a stop, Bender started flinging bags inside. “Sleeping bags suck.”

Neither of them had changed their clothes. Dark clouds gathered, but mercifully, just brooded over head as they got in the car and left Shermer behind.

When they reached the complex, Brian reached in his pocket, “Forgot these.”

He handed Bender the other keychain. “Front door, apartment door, laundry room.”

“Uh huh,” the keys disappeared into a pocket, the sneaky pleased smile returning.

They carried everything up. Brian’s boxes neatly stacked against one wall, Bender’s bags quickly torn open to disgorge a pile of clothing, the inflatable mattress with pump, and what looked like an entire shelf out of a pantry.

“Not like they’ll notice,” was the explanation that Brian didn’t ask for. “Didn’t take anything they could call the cops about.”

“Wish you could’ve,” a hand brushing over tightly wound shoulders.

It started to rain as they made lunch of the stolen crackers and cheese from the morning.

“We should buy some actual food,” Brian decided.

“And a tv.”

They did neither that day. Between the two of them, they had two blankets, one pillow and a towel, but it was enough to make a night of it on the sagging inflatable mattress.

There was work after that, but Brian managed to get to a grocery store afterwards and he bought simple things that he thought he could at least fake into actual food and a frozen pizza in case he couldn’t. After getting back in his car, he realized that one needed things to cook in. And to eat off of.

He got back out and bought paper plates and napkins and the single lonely pan hanging in the baking aisle. By the time Bender opened the door, there was mac and cheese with ground beef in it that tasted really salty, but edible. There was soda and juice in the fridge.

There were two paper plates and two plastic cups at the ready. Brian waited for Bender to make a housewife joke, already lining up a comeback. Instead though, Bender’s arms went around his waist, his chin landing on Brian’s shoulder, their cheeks pressed together.

“Bus ride is long,” his voice was honey in Brian’s ear, low and sweet. “But you know, the whole time what was I thinking?”

“Couldn’t guess.”

“That it was okay. Cause I was going home.”

Look sometimes, later, there would be whole minutes, whole hours, where Brian would forget why they were together. When one of them was in a shitty mood or things weren’t going right at work and money got tight, when the world outside their door seemed to hate them for just sharing their lives together. Sometimes, he’d stare at Bender’s face and couldn’t remember why he’d ever wanted to kiss it.

But it would always pass.

Some part of them, no matter how old they grew together, was always caught in that moment. The rain on the window, the smell of browned meat in the air. Their bodies humid where they were caught close.

When Bender turned 18, they set down a cornerstone of a foundation that would hold up the rest of their lives.


End file.
